


Vicious Crayons

by Shenanigans



Category: DCU
Genre: Coda, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:45:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shenanigans/pseuds/Shenanigans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steph mourns. [ficlet]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vicious Crayons

Steph is well into her twenties now. She’s broken her shoulder four times and has had more stitches than she can count. She knows exactly when her metabolism gave up and stopped fighting her when she downed cheeseburgers and dipped fries into chocolate shakes. She had grown svelte into the lifestyle, but not hard.

She thought it was an important distinction and made sure to still ruffle Tim’s hair whenever he got too full of himself. She tried cutting her hair, but that had been a terrible idea as she’d ended up eating more of it than actually necessary. It had seemed like a really good idea at the time.

Steph told herself that a lot, actually.

There were entire days when she’d forget just how much it hurt. There were entire weeks where it didn’t shove like a knife to the gut that this was war and not just justice.

Bruce had taken the solid punch followed by an even more solid kick. She’d screamed wordlessly at him, the pain too much for such simple concepts as words. He knew. He knew and she had squared her jaw at him, tipped up and defiant for one bright hot moment of pure soul tearing grief. She barely recognized her voice around the way the world slipped sideways and hot behind tears that scorched and never soothed. “He was a kid.”

It had taken her months to remember that Bruce was just a man. He was just a man and sometimes he made mistakes. Child soldiers were his biggest. Children to fight his unending war. Steph took off for awhile, going to college - who knew - and taking an internship at the clinic. She worked and taught and fought a different sort of battle for awhile but every time she caught sight of a sullen black haired boy her throat closed up and she just had to sit down and remember him.

“You’ll do,” she’d inhale slowly, just like Tim had taught her. Just like Shiva had taught him. 

She always expected that one day she’d turn a corner and he’d be standing there, all of rangy shouldered and sharp haughty eyed seventeen with a slight sneer. She’d touch the white in his hair as he jerked his head back and suddenly it wouldn’t hurt anymore.

Thing was? Steph wasn’t so gullible as to believe in that kind of happy ending anymore. So, she left cans of open cat food at his grave next to a box of carefully- viciously- sharpened crayons.

She figured he’d want the company.


End file.
